


red like blood

by impeccably_stressed



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: ...happy halloween i guess?, Evil!Nate Sewell, F/M, Mild Gore, it's uh...it's bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 01:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16253819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impeccably_stressed/pseuds/impeccably_stressed
Summary: Red like blood, it falls through his fingers, soft and yielding—he always loved her hair.





	red like blood

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> I am also not sorry.  
> 

“…my daughter,” she says, over a lump in her throat, and a pin could break the silence that comes over them, but instead it’s the light tap of the folder hitting Rebecca’s desk that breaks the spell of silence.

And then Farah’s laugh shatters what’s left when they all see the picture.

 

* * *

 

She’s nearly a miniature of Rebecca, her eyes, her nose, her mouth, all except for her hair, which she’s stripped of its natural brown and dyed red.

“I see the resemblance,” Nate says at a red light, where he’s folded uncomfortably in her car.

Charlotte blinks over at him, concern apparent in her expression as she sees his knees bump against the dashboard. “Resemblance to what?”

“Your mother,” he says, and he sees it again, the rigidness that blooms over her face and body, just as she did back in her office when Rebecca attempted to make a motherly gesture.

He doesn’t know if she does it from hate or shame, but he finds himself curious regardless, prodding what are clearly old wounds against his better judgement.

“Though I am more partial to scarlet,” he says, clearly raking his eyes over her hair, from root to end. He would caress a strand as well but he can already hear her heart hammering in her chest, can hear the blood rushing up to her cheeks.

Begging to be bitten.

“R-Really?” she asks, breathless.

His fingers twitch, wishing to run over the pink of her cheeks, the red of her lips, to break the delicate skin of her neck and have a taste of what’s pulsing in her veins.

“I would have guessed green,” she adds, letting her own eyes fall over his body, from his eyes, down his jaw, toward his neck, and then falling, falling, falling down the chest he pretends to breathe in, same as she pretends to be following the lines of his green button-up.

But then her eyes keep lowering, and lowering, and then stop—he teasingly grips his thigh in his hand, close to where her gaze is resting, and her eyes dart away immediately, cheeks violently red.

Then the light blinks green and they continue on their way to tell a mother her son is dead.

“What a lovely day,” he says lightly, and she agrees.

 

* * *

 

He’s only half-disappointed she doesn’t get his blood on her fingers, his scent would last longer on her if she had, marking her.

But he enjoys the warmth of her hands weaving over his regardless, wrapping his bandages even as he feels his wound stitching together already.

He even makes a game of it, twitching and wincing every once in a while, just to see how lightly she can make her touches, though he knows it will never be lightly enough. Still, he makes her play all the same.

Her frown deepens with every one of his hisses and tugs, and she apologizes every time with such earnestness and concern that he can feel his heartstrings tugging in a way that he hasn’t felt in ages.

When she finally finishes, he thanks her earnestly, running a hand over his fake wound.

 

* * *

 

“What do you think you’re doing, Nate?” Adam whispers as they walk away from the detective.

Nate squeezes his hand, letting his fingers run over the roughness of the bandage, contrasting it with the gentleness of Charlotte’s touch that he will forever sear in his memory.

Nate blinks.

Truthfully, he’s not sure anymore.

But that doesn’t mean Adam has to know.

Nate’s mouth breaks into a grin and he chuckles at his old friend, calling him a stick in the mud, then brazenly looks back only to see Charlotte do the same, and he feels his grin become genuine just as Adam tugs him away, reminding him she can never know the truth.

 

* * *

 

It’s much easier now that she knows the truth, made even more easy by how accepting she is of this newfound knowledge—even if she cried for a few hours after finding out Jedi weren’t real (whatever those are).

But what’s easiest of all is how naturally she lies to everyone she knows about her convalescence after the attack with the thralls.

“Yeah, they made us do a trust exercise at the seminar,” he overhears her say to Tina.

Tina groans. “The kind where they make you fall into each other’s arms?”

“Yup,” she says without hesitation.

“That’s so weird,” Tina says with a laugh. “I mean, why would they make you do that with a bunch of strangers?”

When he hears silence, he looks up from his book to see Charlotte shrugging, inviting Tina to make her own assumptions, her own lie.

“All I know is that this old guy copped a feel,” she replies, laughing.

Deflecting.

And when Tina finally bids her goodbye, Charlotte walks back into her office without a second glance. She merely plops into her oversized office chair, notices him staring, and smiles as if nothing occurred.

For the first time, Nate doubts.

 

* * *

 

He doubts he’ll ever forget the sound of her screams as Murphy bit into her neck.

He doubts he’ll ever forget the ease with which Murphy defeated the entire team without breaking a single sweat.

He doubts he’ll ever forget the way she fell limp in his own arms.

He’ll never forget the way she locked eyes with Adam.

 

* * *

 

Every time he gets near her neck, she shudders, but Nate continues to press hot, wet kisses all the way down the slim, silver scar that remains. He uses his stubble to scratch at the sensitive skin, presses down with his teeth until she’s writhing against him, pushing and gripping him, until she’s chanting, whimpering his name.

“We’ll make new memories,” he’d told her, the first time he buried himself in her neck. “You’ll forget all about him.”

But lies come as easily to his lips as they do to hers, and he never forgets.

 

* * *

 

Farah is the weakest, she couldn’t stop him if she tried.

Not that she was even keeping a lookout for any dangers besides the pack of werewolves. And even if she had kept aware of her blind spot, why would she ever expect Nate to take advantage of it?

Still he makes it quick, he gives her that much mercy.

 

* * *

 

Morgan is trickier, but without her crystal it is a simple matter.

Admittedly, in his gamble he could have just as easily lost both her and Charlotte, but Morgan—bless her—held on as long as she could before indulging in Charlotte’s blood to protect them from the onslaught of demons.

But the overstimulation proved too much for her, and the demons took advantage. Were it not for he and Adam’s _timely_ intervention, even Charlotte would have been lost.

Not that that would have mattered.

 

* * *

 

“Do you know what it’s like to feel heartbreak?” he mutters into her hair.

She shakes in his arms.

“It feels like being lost at sea.”

He turns her around so the she faces him.

“It’s that plummeting in your heart, knowing that even though you’re alive, you may as well be dead.”

He catches her jaw in his hand and forces her to look up at him.

“Actually, why don’t I just show you?”

Before she can even gasp, his other hand is past her ribs, ripping through connective tissue, and he can feel her last heartbeats with his fingertips.

He squeezes and she chokes in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Do you feel it?”

Her heart bursts in his fist.

“Now you know what Adam will feel when he finally arrives.” He kisses the shell of her ear before whispering, “Now you’ll know how Rebecca felt earlier this morning.”

He pulls out, blood dripping down his wrist into his leather jacket. He takes a moment to lick the blood and lets his senses overcome him.

He can hear footsteps a few kilometers away, rushing but already too late.

Nate looks down at Charlotte; she merely looks down at her chest in a daze.

“It’s unfortunate, truly. You had so much potential. You could have been by my side.” He sinks to his knees so that she can look at him without issue. “I would have altered my plans for you, do you know that? You made me…happy.”

And then it stops, the buzzing of her mind.

Far away, he can hear the hinges of the compound's metal doors break away, and Nate sighs making his way toward the exit, licking up what’s left of her blood on his arm.

 

* * *

 

Dimly, he knows he should be chasing after his former friend. He knows he should be screaming with rage. He knows he could be doing a million other things.

But Adam cradles Charlotte’s body in his arms, the way he always wanted but never should have.

Even his tears won’t fall, the few that are left after everything. All he can do is rest his forehead against her own and swallow over the lump in this throat, before putting her down and folding her arms over her chest, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.

He knows it’s silly, but still he sets about straightening her out, giving her any kind of dignity. He knows it’s too late, but still he kisses her eyelids shut, giving her any kind of affection. He knows it’s useless, but still he speaks to her, caresses her, runs his hands through her hair.

Red like blood, it falls through his fingers, soft and yielding—he always loved her hair.

He always loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [my personal tumblr](http://impeccably-stressed.tumblr.com/) if you like memes, foxes, raccoons, and shitposting.
> 
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> 
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